


Scream for the Heavens and They May Answer

by TranslatorError



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, crosspost from wattpad, im weak for kid gintoki, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 20:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17905346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TranslatorError/pseuds/TranslatorError
Summary: Before the war, you don't really consider the concept of heaven.





	Scream for the Heavens and They May Answer

Before the war you never considered the concept of heaven. Far too many were gone on the battlefield you grew up in, and as you competed with the ravenous crows for corpse pickings you had no choice but to keep moving forward. When the body falls, that's it. Burials were for those who could afford the time and money to honour the dead, and for those who had a body to mourn. You know this, already mastering the art of using stench to determine which bodies were ripe for looting and which were long gone. The villagers raise their young in the arts of writing, reading, all pointless to you, the Corpse Eating Demon.

Frankly, you found it hypocritical how the society that couldn't even fight their own battles despises the stray who hunts to survive. Hating you, shunning you, for not honouring the dead, yet leaving the bountiful corpses where they lie so that the birds may feast. Under one person's scrutiny, you were feral and animalistic, an "amanto." That unfamiliar word, spat out by elders who had seen life before the invasion began, resigning you to being an inhuman being who had not the decency to care for the deceased. You briefly wonder if those beings were the ones that robbed you of having the same life as the young in the village. Or maybe the village is correct, that you are the offspring of the amanto, with your white hair and red eyes so clearly contrasting the dull browns and blonds of the other children.

When Shouyou appears, you again question why you are different to the other children. You survive and have means of defending yourself but are feared for doing so. He uses the words you lack to describe your treatment, and with your dull sword half drawn you stare at the odd man with interest. While not the first to approach you, he is the first to talk to you and not at you. You do not understand what they say when they encounter you, but can guess that the word "Demon" when spat venomously and combined with the unclipping of a sword from a belt means trouble. This time, "Demon" is not said as a curse, but in an unidentifiable manner similar to how you'd seen a mother softly speak to her crying child. Though confused, your sword still remained up, ready to strike at the slightest movement. You do not expect a sword to be thrown at you.

The last thing you expected when offered his hand is to be enrolled to his newly established temple school. You are not the only stray he seems to feed, as a couple orphans come and go to meet the new folk in town. That village that cursed you out is long behind you, and granted the new title "Sakata Gintoki" the shackles of "the Corpse Eating Demon" dissipate. Quite a few of the kids attempt to talk to you, and abruptly give up once you glare at them. Sensei scolds you for this, asking you to "Be nice" and skipping over the fact that you lack any means to. Your linguistic skills are non-existent, vocabulary limited to your newly given name and a few words you remember being flung at you at the old village. Giving no response to his order seems to clock Sensei in on your difficulty.

He pulls you aside after dismissing some of the children who crowded around him, and asks if you knew any language at all or how to write. You nod, watching as Shoyou's eyes show sympathy, something you haven't encountered before. He rises to the occasion and begins to teach you very basic social skills. By the end of the day you know the important phrases like "Can I have directions?" and "Have you seen a man called Yoshida Shouyou?" It doesn't occur to you how much you'll use the latter phrase in the future.

Some time passes, and you still don't have a strong grasp on Japanese, having the reading level of a three year old while being estimated at roughly 5. Not a huge issue for the time being, but it means you have to spend more time going over the stuff Sensei teaches instead of getting some practice in with your sword. It remains by you at all times, a constant and familiar that grounds you when you forget where you are and imagine yourself still at the battlefield. Have the corpses been cleared yet? Are their families still weeping for the loss? Did you ever have someone weep for you? Where do the souls of the people who die go? You never get the answers, but you imagine the "heaven" you hear about to have the answers you seek.

You don't keep track of the time it's been since Sensei had carried you away from the bloody field. Initially this was due to being unable to even tell the time, but after a while it became a matter of when Sensei was going to give up on you. You don't understand why Sensei chose you to take, knowing about your reputation yet still giving you a proper sword to cling to. Once you learn how to tell how much time has passed, you start to predict how long it's going to be until he finally has enough of playing house with a demon. When you get into a fight with some older kids at another school, sword unsheathed as a result of their taunts, you guess the argument to have lasted about 5 minutes before Sensei shows up and drags you away from the frightened 8 year olds.

Sensei says nothing as you walk with him away from town towards the school, and you wonder if you're still a student of his anymore. He's frustrated, upset at your actions but does not take it out on you like you believe he should have. Anything - even a beating would be better than this silence that brings you back to the lonely days where it was just you, challenging the crows to pick at bodies, a memory from less than 4 months ago. 

"Do you remember what I first told you?" Shouyou's voice was low, lacking its usual uplifting lilt.

"Not really," A lie, you reflect on those words every day, keeping them close to your soul.

He knows this, but carries on anyway. You're not sure if it's to quickly end the situation, or to protect your pride.

"Your sword should only be used to protect those things that are important to you. And yet, why do I find you in an alleyway, sword drawn on upperclassman?"

"They mocked you and our school. You said to protect things I find important but won't let me protect you."

"Gintoki, no matter how much a person annoys you, you should never draw your sword in response."

You take a few minutes to process this, to cool down before saying something you know you would regret.

He's watching you, tracking every muscle movement to gauge your reaction.

"Swords are the only thing I know."

"It's a good thing you're enrolled in a school then."

He's not kicking you out?

Sensei pats you on the head, beams at you, and leaves you alone in the empty classroom. There's no bodies here, no peckish crows looking for a meal, just you and the words Sensei left you to consider.

You once again wonder about this "heaven" thing, and find him to be a part of yours.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this is just an excuse to write baby gintoki after binging gintama


End file.
